Sam walked for an hour before he found her. As much as Cass sometimes liked to dull her feelings with alcohol, he didn't think she'd have wandered into any of the seedy bars near the motel. And she'd been talking to Jo on the phone, which eliminated the library. No—if he was going to find her anywhere, he could almost bet it would be outside. He wandered around town and checked two small parks before he finally saw the sign for the dog park and knew immediately he'd found the right place.
She was sitting on a bench on a hill overlooking a large open expanse of grass where an Australian shepherd was enthusiastically chasing a tennis ball. Sam didn't approach at first, just stood there, taking her in.
She looked tired. Her arms were draped over the back of the bench, and while the posture was more relaxed than when she'd stormed out of the motel, it looked more like weariness than comfort. Her eyes were dry but red-rimmed, and though they followed the dog playing fetch in the field below, the expression was distant.
"Are you just gonna stare, or do you have something else to say?" Her voice was rough. She didn't look at him.
Sam hesitated, then slowly approached, sinking gingerly onto the other edge of the bench and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "I was worried."
It wasn't the best choice of words, considering what he'd told her earlier. Cass tensed immediately, her jaw clenching and unclenching silently. "I told you not to."
Sam swallowed hard. Admitted, "I can't help it."
She looked at him for the first time, a short, scathing glance that made him wince. "Pretty sure that's a 'you' problem."
"Yeah, I guess it is," Sam agreed. She looked at him full-on then, plainly expectant. "I'm—" Sam faltered. Sighed. "I shouldn't have called you a liability. You're not."
"I know," she said simply.
"And I shouldn't have ignored you, either," he said, raking a hand through his hair again in frustration. "I just…" He didn't know how to say it.
"You were just trying to push me away on your own terms because at least it's something you can control, instead of losing another person you care about to supernatural forces outside your control." Her voice was neutral, almost clinical.
"I—" Sam frowned, thrown by the frank accuracy. "...yeah." He tried to think back to her notes, to remember if he'd done something like this in the future she'd seen.
"You can stop making that face," she said dismissively, seemingly reading his mind again "I told you everything—you know this never happened in the show. I just know you, Sam. I know you care about me, and I know that scares you because you've already had so many people taken away from you. I also know that as smart as you are, you've got this self-loathing, self-sacrificing hero complex that outweighs all your intelligence sometimes, which is incredibly frustrating because it makes you come up with backwards ideas like pushing me away so you don't have to lose me."
Sam's mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Cass raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "You do realize how backwards that is, right? Pushing me away on purpose to avoid the pain on the off-chance something happens to me? You're trading the chance of grief for the certainty of being miserable."
Sam fisted his hands in his lap, glancing away from the frank judgment in her eyes. Softly, he said, "Misery's not as bad as grief."
He looked back at her in time to catch her quick blink, the flicker of something halfway between anger and sadness that crossed her face before she smoothed it away and said cooly, "Is that what you want, then?" Sam frowned and she went on, "I'm not about to cower in the bunker, but if you don't want to talk to me anymore then I'm not—"
"No," Sam said quickly. Before he could talk himself out of it he reached out and took her hand. "No. I don't want that."
Cass looked at their joined hands with something like remote curiosity. She didn't pull her hand away, but she didn't return the gesture either, her fingers lax in his grip. "What do you want, then?"
"I…"
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to have already kissed her—he wanted to go back in time to the morning he and Dean had left and press her up against the door of her bedroom. He wanted to go back in time three hours and show her just how good it had been to see her. He wanted her to know what she did to him. He wanted to show her. But her eyes were still narrowed and cautious and her hand was still unmoving in his, so instead he forced himself to speak.
"When I saw you were gone, all I could think about was that Ruby had found you, or that an angel had taken you, and I… I guess I realized it's too late to push you away."
Her lips twisted, unimpressed. "Obviously."
"Cass, I—" Sam squeezed her hand gently. "I want this. You. I never stopped." Her fingers twitched in his, her distant expression finally faltering, and Sam allowed himself to feel something like hope. "Whatever you're willing to give me, I'll take it… if I haven't completely screwed everything up already."
Sam held his breath and waited. Cass bit her lip, then looked at their joined hands. Slowly, hesitantly, she interlaced her fingers with his, and Sam nearly shook with relief.
She was still frowning, though. She looked away from their hands and said softly, "I want an apology." And then, talking quickly, her eyes bright, "I know I'm breaking my own rule, here, again, but I have to—I have to know that you're not going to do this to me again. I love you, Sam, but all I've heard you say is what you shouldn't have done, and not that you're actually s—"
"Sorry," Sam finished, a little breathlessly. He'd hated that rule, anyway. "I'm sorry, Cass. I was a jerk to you, and I'm sorry."
Her eyes had gone wide, but now she frowned and said skeptically, "I'm kind of having a hard time believing you."
That was when Sam realized he was smiling, and had been throughout his apologies. He huffed a short, self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, it's just—" He swallowed. "You said you love me."
Understanding dawned. Finally, finally she squeezed his fingers back, even as she looked at him with something like affectionate pity. "Yes, Sam. Of course I do. You think I'd go cry in a dog park over just anyone?"
"I'm sorry," Sam said again. And then, because hearing the words had shocked him into awareness of the fact, he breathed, "I love you, too."
Cass's gaze softened further, the last of the tension draining out of her as she smiled wryly. "I know."
She kissed him, this time, leaning forward and pulling him down by his neck to bring their lips together. It was slow, deliberate, like she was proving a point. She tugged her hand away from his to skim her fingers lightly over his cheek, to slide them into his hair and ever-so-gently tug.
Something broke inside him. Everything he'd been feeling came rushing out at once. He gasped into the kiss and yanked her to him, needing her closer, needing her with a desperation he hadn't known he was capable of. Cass's noise of surprise turned into a hum of contentment, or agreement, or—something. He couldn't think straight, not with her hand tangled in his hair and her halfway in his lap, her chest pressed against his, her teeth gently nipping at his bottom lip.
Sam pulled away just enough to catch his breath, because the small part of him that was still capable of rational thought reminded him that they were sitting on a bench in a very public park. So he swallowed hard and whispered against her lips, "So… apology accepted?"
Cass laughed, and Sam couldn't help but grin at that victory even as she pulled away. "Apology accepted," she agreed. Then she cleared her throat and glanced around. "But I'm not usually one for PDA, so if you want to keep making out like teenagers we should probably head back to the motel."
He did want that. For a moment his thoughts spiraled, imagining taking her back, pressing her up against the door as soon as it was closed, hiking her legs around him and—
"Wait," he said, pulling away, swallowing hard and trying to push those thoughts out of his mind. "Let me take you to dinner."
Cass raised her eyebrows. With humor she said, "What, like a real date?"
"Yeah," Sam said, voice rough but serious. "Like a real date."
He wanted to do at least something right. It was already nearly eight, and neither of them had eaten. If they went to the motel now, Sam was pretty sure neither of them would. And while a part of that thought was appealing, it wasn't how he'd wanted to do this. He didn't want to rush. And after not speaking for weeks, Sam honestly missed just talking to her.
"I have a vague memory of passing a hole-in-the-wall Chinese place on the way here," Cass said uncertainly, "But I'm terrible at directions so I'm not sure I could find it again."
Sam smiled and pulled her up from the bench. "I think I know where you're talking about. Come on."
Cass allowed herself to be pulled up, but then reclaimed her hand and shoved them both in her pockets as they started walking, explaining matter-of-factly, "I don't like holding hands in public. And frankly, Sam, you're far too tall for it to be comfortable for either of us."
Sam didn't object, settling for walking close enough for their arms to brush while he led them out of the park and towards the restaurant. With the air cleared, Cass asked about the cases they'd been on lately. Sam summarized the routine ones and gave her a quick summary of where events had diverged from what she'd seen. In return, Cass gave a vague summary of what she'd been doing at Bobby's place since they'd been gone—reading the tablet, keeping busy. Sam could tell there was probably more to it than that, but he wasn't about to push.
They found the restaurant in less than ten minutes, and Sam dug out his phone while they walked to a table, texting Dean. Found Cass. Back later.
His phone buzzed almost immediately. Good. Don't screw it up this time. And then, a few minutes later, If you need me I'll be in Room 248. Sam couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or grateful at the presumption.
When he looked up from tucking his phone away Sam found Cass tracing her finger along the laminated placemats on the table. "You were born in '83, right?" she asked, raising an amused eyebrow. Sam sighed and nodded, already knowing what was coming. "So you're a pig."
He didn't rise to the teasing, instead doing some quick mental math and tracing the zodiac symbol on his own placemat. "Rooster?"
"Monkey," Cass corrected. Sam frowned.
"You said you were 27. From 2020, that's 1993." Cass raised her eyebrows, and Sam realized his mistake. "You were born in '92. You've had a birthday."
"Yep." Her voice was light as she joked, "It's very weird to be on a date with someone who is simultaneously three years younger than me and nine years older than me."
Sam was still stuck on the birthday thing. "When was it? Why didn't you say anything?"
"July 31st." So, two months ago. "And to be honest, I kind of forgot about it. It wasn't too long after the Witnesses—I wasn't really paying attention to the calendar, and by the time I realized I'd missed it you and Dean were already on the road."
"I'm sorry." Cass waved him off as the waiter approached to take their orders, clearly unbothered. He still hated the thought that her birthday had come and gone and none of them had known or celebrated it, though, and he resolved to make it up to her next year. When the waiter left, Sam said, "Can I ask you something?"
Cass tilted her head curiously. "Sure."
"Ellen said—"
"Oh, God." She winced. "I'm so sorry. Did she yell at you? I swear I had nothing to do with that."
"No, no, it's fine," Sam assured her quickly. "That's actually what I wanted to ask you about. You and Jo, I mean. When did you…" Sam trailed off, not entirely sure how he wanted to phrase the question. She got his meaning, though.
"Get close enough that she's the person I'd call?" Cass hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know. Immediately, I guess, once she was satisfied that I wasn't a witch hexing you guys." She shrugged and explained further, "She bullied me into training with the angel blade, and I think she decided she liked me after I disarmed her."
Sam stared. "You beat Jo in a knife fight?"
Cass blinked in surprise, then cleared her throat awkwardly. "No, not really. I, um… disarmed her with jiu jitsu."
"Jiu jitsu," Sam repeated blankly.
Cass shrugged again, like that was explanation enough. "After that she was bugging me to teach her my 'ninja moves'."
"No, wait, hold on," Sam said, holding up a hand. "Jiu jitsu? You didn't even want to take that angel blade from Cas because you're 'not a fighter', but you know jiu jitsu?"
"I didn't learn it to fight people," Cass said, her nose wrinkling at the implication. "I learned it to gently incapacitate people long enough that I could run away to safety." Sam raised his eyebrows at that, surprised even as she waved her hand dismissively. "Besides, it's not like it's useful against monsters. Demons and angels don't experience pain the way humans do—not to mention they're a hell of a lot stronger."
Sam frowned, surveying the tension in her shoulders as she talked about it. "Did something happen? To make you want to learn it?"
Cass sighed in resignation and nodded. "A guy followed me home and tried to mug me. I wasn't hurt or anything," she said quickly, "but it happened right outside my apartment, and it was hard to feel safe after that." She hesitated, then admitted, "I still freak out a little sometimes if someone's walking behind me. I'll stop to check my phone or tie my shoe or something, so I can reassure myself I'm not being followed."
Sam slept with a knife under his pillow, so he wasn't one to criticize about caution or paranoia. But being as tall as he was and as skilled as he was, it had been a long time since he'd had any cause to worry about regular humans. He forgot, sometimes, that other people were usually the most common monsters in ordinary peoples' lives. "I'm sorry. That's awful."
"It happens." She seemed to make an effort to lighten her voice when she said, "Anyway. I got some pepper spray and took up jiu jitsu. I've never actually used it outside of practice, though, and it's like I said—it's pretty much useless against the sorts of things you guys hunt. I made Jo swear to only use it on human scumbags."
"Like she wasn't scary enough already," Sam said, and was gratified when Cass smiled. Their food arrived then, and there was a break in the conversation as they ate, though Sam still watched her thoughtfully and Cass arched an eyebrow at him, silently asking what he was staring at.
Sam debated whether or not to ask his next question, not sure if it was pushing too far. But he was curious, and he doubted he'd get another good opportunity to ask.
"Does she remind you of Alex?"
Cass frowned at the mention of her sister and busied herself taking a large bite of broccoli. Sam waited. When she'd swallowed, she said, "A little." She speared a piece of carrot. "They're different. More different than they are alike, really. But there are some similarities."
Because she hadn't glared at him or told him to stop prying, he felt safe to ask, "Like what?
Cass smiled grimly. "They're both tough as nails. But Jo will kick your ass literally, with combat boots, whereas if you mess with Alex you just get metaphorically crushed under her very expensive designer heels."
"You miss her." There was no mistaking the admiration and longing in her voice when she talked about her sister. It made Sam's stomach clench uncomfortably.
"Every day," Cass agreed. There was no reproach in her voice, no blame. She was just stating a fact. She frowned and caught Sam's gaze, continuing seriously, "Jo's not a replacement. I could never replace Alex, and I'm not trying to. But I guess I needed someone like a sister again, and I think Jo always wanted one, so… here we are."
She looked more than a little relieved when the waiter dropped off their check. "I think that's more than enough emotional vulnerability for one evening, don't you? Open your fortune cookie—" She raised her eyebrows jokingly. "I want to know your future."
"Really?" Sam shook his head, but humored her, cracking open the cookie. He read aloud, "'A ship in harbor is safe, but that's not why ships are built.'"
"I like that," Cass hummed. She cracked open her own cookie, and Sam watched a smile stretch over her face as her eyes flicked over the paper. "'A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life,'" she read aloud.
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Should I tell them you're already taken?"
She laughed at that, and Sam couldn't help but smile even as she shook her head at him. They paid the bill and wandered back toward the motel, taking their time. When they stopped in front of the motel room door Cass tangled their fingers together again and said quietly, "This has been nice."
"Yeah, it has," Sam agreed, feeling far too giddy at the feeling of her hand linked with his again. He blamed this for the fact that he blurted, "You should stay the night." And then, when Cass raised her eyebrows, "Sorry, that came out—I just mean—it's a little late to start the drive back, don't you think? I don't want you falling asleep on the road."
Cass's lips were twitching in amusement. Sam could feel his ears burning. "Crashing on the couch does sound better than driving all night," she agreed lightly. "As long as Dean doesn't mind. I can always get another room—"
"Right… about that." Sam hoped his face didn't look as red as it felt. "Dean kind of… already got himself another room."
"Oh?" Cass blinked once. Sam saw the moment it clicked. "Oh." She sighed, the sound fondly exasperated. "Yeah, he would, wouldn't he?"
"I-it's not—I mean—" Sam stopped. Tried again. "Don't think—I mean, there's still—" Cass raised her eyebrows again, her eyes sparkling, her smile growing wider and wider with every failed attempt. Sam huffed and accused, "You're enjoying this."
"Oh yes," she agreed, utterly unrepentant. "You're cute when you're awkward." Sam's stomach leaped pleasantly, and Cass squeezed his hand. Her voice was calm and reasonable when she said, "And no pressure, but… ridiculous or not, we do have a room to ourselves, and with me driving back to Bobby's place tomorrow I'm not sure when that's going to happen again. So if you want—"
Sam cut her off, this kiss hungry and passionate and everything he'd been holding back since he'd tasted her back in the park. When he pulled back, Cass's eyes were dark, her pupils wide as she clung to his neck just as desperately as he clung to her waist. He swallowed hard and assured her, "I want."
It was a little gratifying to watch Sam fumble and drop the keys to the motel room, because she was drunk with desire herself and didn't know if she'd be able to stand if she weren't half-leaning on the doorframe. It was still so sudden and overwhelming that she was half-afraid she was dreaming, that she would wake up and she'd realize she'd never left Sioux Falls at all.
Sam got the door open and they both stumbled inside, his mouth on hers again as he closed the door and pressed her up against it in one motion. And it was so good—better than anything she could have dreamed up, and the knowledge that this was real made her shiver. Sam's lips paused against hers, and she hoped desperately that he wouldn't stop, because she wasn't capable of the words right now to reassure him that it was a good shiver.
No reassurance was necessary. Sam pulled back just far enough to look her in the eyes—and god, the look of sheer hunger on his face had her shivering again, and he smirked darkly because he knew exactly what he was doing to her—and then his hand was on her thigh, hiking one of her legs up as he pressed forward, grinding their hips together.
Cass didn't think she'd ever made a needier or more desperate noise in her life. She clung to him, slid her fingers into his hair as she gasped, "Sam—"
Sam made a needy noise himself as she tugged on his hair, and repeated the motion just so she could hear it again. "Cass."
His fingers tangled in the bottom of her shirt and tugged. She raised her arms so he could yank it off and then they were scrambling to remove the rest of each other's clothing, clumsy and uncoordinated but making up for it with enthusiasm.
Sam let out a shuddering breath when her bra hit the floor, eyes darting from her breasts to her face like he couldn't quite believe this was happening. "You're amazing."
"You're amazing," she shot back, eyes roving over every inch of him, lingering on his cock. It was proportional to the rest of him, but the rest of him was huge, so the impact wasn't really lessened. Sam stepped forward, his eyes dark, and in one swift motion he'd lifted her. Cass obligingly wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck as she sighed against his lips, "God, it's sexy that you can pick me up."
His hands tightened against her ass and waist. His voice was lower than she'd ever heard it before when he demanded, "Tell me what you want."
"You," she said immediately. She traced open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and then breathed in his ear, "You, inside me."
Sam shuddered, and Cass made a mental note that either he liked to hear her talk or he liked it when she whispered in his ear—maybe both. It was worth finding out some other time, but not now, because now Sam was pressing her into a mattress and stepping away just long enough to curse and fumble in the pocket of a bag and come back with a condom. Cass held her hand out for it and Sam hesitated, then let out a funny little breath and stepped closer, brushing their fingers together as he handed her the packet.
She ripped it open and then reached for him, glancing between her hands and Sam's face as she slid it down over him. Sam closed his eyes halfway through the process, looking almost troubled with the effort it took to hold himself together, and gasped, "Fuck, Cass."
And because even having her hands on his cock and being mad with desire didn't stop her from being a snarky bitch, she teased, "Yes, that is the idea."
Sam's eyes opened, and it appeared desire didn't stop him from being capable of his adorable, bitchy little scowl, either, but it was gone the next second, replaced by a devious, purposeful look as he pressed her back into the sheets. He held her gaze almost defiantly as he took one nipple in his mouth and trailed a hand down between her thighs, twirling his fingers with just the right speed and pressure that—
"S-Sam—" Teeth grazed lightly against her breast, testing her reaction, and she arched upward against his mouth and fingers, snarkiness long forgotten. "Sam—fuck."
"Mm." Sam hummed against her skin, flashing her a mischievous smile. "That's the idea."
She tugged him close so she could kiss the smug look off his stupid smug face, and then she ran her hands along the hard length of him and begged, "Sam, please."
He pulled back just barely, his eyes darting over her face, searching and disbelieving and thinking far too much in her opinion, and she wasn't too proud to beg him again—but she didn't have to. He caught her lips again and tangled his right hand with her left while he hefted her leg with his other and then finally, finally, they came together.
Sam groaned when he was fully seated inside her, squeezing her hand almost too hard, and Cass squeezed back with as much force as she could muster, hoping to communicate how right this was, how much she'd needed this, how much she needed him not to stop—
They moved. Cass ran her fingers through Sam's hair again, and she watched him carefully as she tugged lightly, deliberately, and was rewarded with Sam's eyes fluttering and his hips faltering as he made that keening little noise she was quickly becoming addicted to. And then Sam was moving determinedly, a stubborn look of concentration on his face as he adjusted his hold on her hips until—
"Oh, fuck, yes—"
—he found the right angle and maintained it, looking deeply satisfied as she whined and cried out and shook. The orgasm was overwhelming and she closed her eyes, wave after wave crashing over her as Sam still moved, pulling her closer, breath becoming ragged.
She was talking before she realized it, a mixture of pleas and praise, "Please, Sam, yes," and "You're so good, fuck, I need you," and then a broken "Please please please please please, baby, please—" and then Sam was clutching her close, groaning into the crook of her neck as he finished.
They stayed like that for a moment while they caught their breath, her legs still wrapped around him. Sam pulled back slightly to meet her eyes again and swallowed hard and said again with no small amount of amazement, "I love you."
Cass huffed a laugh, not at the words but at the almost baffled way he said them. "I love you, too." But they were both sweaty now, and covered with various fluids, and her legs were getting tired from clinging to him like a spider monkey. "Join me in the shower?"
He did. The motel shower was small and cramped and not designed to hold two people, especially when one of them was Sam's size, but they managed. They were both too exhausted from their first round to do much more than look at each other and skim soapy hands appreciatively over the expanse of the other's skin, but there was intimacy in that, too. They'd been rushed when they'd stripped each other before. Now they took their time, Cass tracing her fingers curiously over pale scars marring his skin, Sam remarking softly how dark her hair turned when it was wet, how long it really was when the water weighed down the curls.
They got out when the water started to go cold. Sam dried his hair with a towel while Cass crossed the room to dig in his bag, smiling triumphantly when she pulled out a blue plaid flannel. She dropped her towel and tugged it on, unable to repress the smug pleasure she got from stealing his clothes. And not just a cast-off he'd left behind at Bobby's this time, either. This one still smelled like him.
Sam paused in his drying, the towel falling against his neck as his eyes lingered on her fingers doing up the buttons. His voice was a little rough when he confessed, "I like seeing you in my clothes."
That, she had suspected well before he'd kissed her. But it was nice to hear the theory confirmed, to see the way his gaze lingered longingly on her thighs. "Good," she said lightly. "Because you're not getting this back for a while."
Sam raised his eyebrows, an amused smile stretching across his lips. "Is that right?"
"Mmhm." She lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and inhaled deeply. There was something woodsy and grassy about the smell, and something that reminded her of old books, and something more masculine and unplaceable that reminded her of the way he tasted on her lips. "You can have it back when it doesn't smell like you anymore."
Sam huffed a little laugh, but said, "Deal."
It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. "It's cute that you think I was bargaining."
"My mistake."
He dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Cass sat on the bed and watched the process, sighing as thin cotton stretched over broad shoulders. And then she reached her arms out for him, because she could, because Sam smiled and sat next to her, turning into her embrace as he curled their fingers together. She was quickly learning that Sam was a hand-holder. She thought she could get used to it.
Sam stared at her, an open, searching gaze that would have made her uncomfortable just a few hours ago. Now she just waited as he drank her in, until finally he brushed a damp curl away from her face and said, "Tell me what you're thinking."
She tilted towards his touch as his fingers skimmed along her cheek. "I'm thinking… I'm relieved." She sighed and admitted, "I hadn't realized how much effort it was taking to hold all of this back until I didn't have to anymore."
It was true. She'd spent so long telling herself not to act on her feelings for Sam that she felt ridiculously light now that she had. The worry and uncertainty and longing at the back of her mind was gone, replaced with giddy contentment.
"I know exactly what you mean." At her skeptical look he shook his head, a self-deprecating little smile on his lips. "Cass—I've wanted to do that since you taped salt to the floor and warned me about spooky ghost wind."
She raised her eyebrows at him and said dryly, "My paranoia got you all hot and bothered?"
"Preparedness," Sam corrected gently, then added, "Tenacity. Courage."
He really was hopelessly in love with her. If the words weren't enough to prove it, the soppy, tender look on his face was. Cass shook her head and informed him, "You're at that phase where you've deceived yourself into thinking all my flaws are actually charming virtues."
It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. "Phase?"
"Oh, yes," she said knowingly. "I skipped past that step and went straight to recognizing your flaws for what they are and loving you even more for them."
Sam's fingers tightened in hers, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he said, "Is that so?" It was partly teasing, but there was an undertone of real doubt in the question.
"That's one, right there," she said frankly, poking a gentle finger into his chest. "Self-loathing. Despite abundant evidence to the contrary, a part of you still thinks that I don't really know you, and that I wouldn't be here if I did." She paused to let that accusation sink in, and when Sam didn't bother to deny it she added, "You're also ridiculously stubborn and have a worrying penchant for self-sacrifice."
Sam huffed. "And you love me despite that?"
"I doubt I could love you without it," she said truthfully. "Since it's the price to pay for your stupidly big, kind heart."
He pressed a kiss to her temple and said, "You're right. I wouldn't love you without your paranoia…" His lips skimmed over her cheek, "Or your constant over-thinking…" Whispered against her jaw, "Or your obsessive need for control." Finally a long, lingering kiss on her lips before he finished, "Since it's the price to pay for the fact that you care so much."
Cass sighed against his lips. "We're both idiots."
Sam's chest vibrated with a low chuckle and he pulled back so he could look her in the eyes when he added, "And you cover up uncomfortable feelings with dry humor."
She grimaced. "Okay. I think that's more than enough honesty for one night."
"Are you sure?" He teased. "I could go on."
"There are still two beds in this room, Sam Winchester. Don't think I won't make you sleep in the other one." It was an empty threat, but he laughed and relented.
"I'll be good," he promised. Then, more earnestly, "Let me hold you."
She was happy to let him.